


Elite

by Crowlows19



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 02:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21438613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowlows19/pseuds/Crowlows19
Summary: "He’s a remarkable boy, Jack. And he was wasted on you.”“That may be so,” Jack said. “But that still doesn’t mean that he’s for you.”“Well, that puts us all in a real quandary doesn’t it?” Bruce replied. “Because he’s not for you either.”
Relationships: Jack Drake & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 24
Kudos: 937





	Elite

Gotham City held one of the most exclusive upper class societies in the country. The city was dark, cold, and full of urban legends which meant it was not a city where you went to live a glamorous, Internet worthy life. They didn’t even bother to compete with Metropolis’s famed writers, New York’s fashion district, Hollywood’s acting class, or Star City’s sudden boom of social media influencers. People didn’t come to Gotham City to become famous; they came to get rich.

The boom in industry during the last generation or so had ultimately resulted in a flood of families that were deemed new money. For these people, it had been a scrappy, bloody fight to even be invited to the social clubs and golf courses that the old monied families had been harboring as their own for generations. It had been even harder to be deemed as acceptable friends or even lovers.

It had been Thomas Wayne who had first broken the ice by inviting the CEO of a new billion dollar company to the Platinum Club for drinks. The gossip had been swift, vicious, and quickly replaced when Sabrina Haskell’s middle son ran off with the pool boy to join a cult in Hawaii. And that story had been quickly replaced by the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne a few weeks later.

But the ice had been broken and by the time Jack Drake had moved his fledgling company and new bride to Gotham City, the doors, once firmly closed, were propped open just enough for him to take advantage and build his own little empire. He had gained a reputation of ruthlessness and it was whispered that his social climbing tendencies had put off quite a few of the older families from investing in his company. 

And since those kind of whispers could be enough to bring down even a company as seemingly stable as Drake Industries, Jack had been entirely pleased to find out one night while on business in London that his son Tim had landed a prestigious internship at Wayne Enterprises. 

“He was interviewed by Bruce Wayne himself,” Marcus Culpepper told him, over drinks. Marcus, a Vice President of Internationals Affairs for Wayne Enterprises and a thoroughly horrible person, had struck up a conversation with him earlier in the evening. Jack had thought it was surprising. He hadn’t been egotistical enough to believe he was on Wayne Enterprises’s radar. He was Bruce Wayne’s neighbor and he didn’t expect his fellow billionaire to know even that. After all, Bruce Wayne was at the top tier of Gotham City’s elite, which made this news all the more surprising.

“Tim never even mentioned that he was applying,” Jack responded casually. “I just spoke to him this morning, too.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. He had sent the boy an email that morning with a signed permission slip attached. He hadn’t checked to see if he had replied yet.

“Well, he hasn’t been accepted officially,” the man told him. “I just overheard Bruce ask his assistant to prepare for the boy. He’s planning on calling when we get back home.”

“Bruce Wayne is here?” Jack asked, immediately interested. Marcus sipped his whiskey and nodded to a corner of the large hotel restaurant.

“Right over there,” he replied and Jack turned to see the man in a corner booth, surrounded by his executives, texting on his phone, and looking remarkably bored with the conversation he was listening to. Jack had never been this close to him before. After all, Bruce Wayne was nearly impossible to get a hold of unless you were already one of his employees or a gorgeous, young model.

Jack didn't approach Bruce that night even though it would have been perfectly natural to have Marcus introduce him. He was smart enough to wait. After all, he knew for a fact that Bruce Wayne wasn't one to care about the connections of any one person. That was the advantage of being at the top. 

He could perfectly afford to be unimpressed with whomever was currently standing in front of him no matter who they were.

00000

The Drake's held a Kentucky Derby party every year. Usually being held at the unused penthouse downtown, they had made a concentrated effort to open up the house that year instead. The sheets came off the furniture and a cleaning crew scoured the house top to bottom whipping it into shape for a crowd of nearly 200 socialites and high powered business men. 

Janet had made it a point to have Tim deliver Bruce's invitation personally, something he had done only after an intense negotiation in which Janet had ultimately threatened to send the boy to a Swiss boarding school. They never would have gone through with it, of course. Tim's presence at the elite schools in Gotham City was too advantageous to the family, as the boy's successful internship had proven. 

But Tim had believed his mother enough to take the envelope and march it over to the house next door. Jack had been incredibly pleased to find out that Bruce Wayne himself had been driving Tim to and from the office. He'd been a little surprised that Bruce would even understand the concept of carpooling but ultimately thought it was a good sign that the CEO had taken a personal interest in Tim. 

It was to the family's advantage to have Bruce play a mentor role to Tim and Jack was positive the boy could run circles around the playboy any day of the week. Having a manipulatable Bruce Wayne on their side could set them up for life. They would be almost untouchable. 

So, Jack took it as a very good sign that Tim had an open invitation to Wayne Manor. And it was an even better sign when Tim had walked back from his delivery with the RSVP card already filled out. For the very first time, Bruce Wayne would be attending his neighbor's Kentucky Derby party.

Tim had handed the card to his mother, stomped upstairs, slammed his bedroom door, and refused to talk to them for two days. They weren't sure why Tim didn't want them all in the same room but it was clear that the mere thought disturbed the boy. Jack thought that was vaguely interesting.

00000

Bruce Wayne had showed up to the party late and with backup which Janet had thought was incredibly amusing. Jack had been a little annoyed. It meant that Bruce could effectively close himself off by interacting with his own guests and thus be less available. It would take far more effort to get the kind of conversation he wanted if Bruce was with his own people.

He had brought his eldest boy, Dick Grayson, and a woman who had clearly been invited last minute based on her casual attire and slightly apologetic tone about the recklessness of her good friend, Bruce Wayne. She'd been introduced as Diana Prince. Bruce had made it clear they were only friends but Janet had been adamant that there was definitely a spark there. 

Dick had wandered off almost immediately to a group of people he knew from his days at Gotham Academy and Janet had expertly extracted Diana to a group of women gossiping around the unlit, massive fireplace. This left Bruce and Jack alone together as planned.

"Tim very much enjoyed his internship," Jack told him. 

"I know," Bruce replied, more coldly than he had expected. He was a little surprised even. He had always heard that Bruce Wayne was generally friendly if a little air-headed and eccentric. He immediately wondered what Tim had told him about his parents. He had been in a snarky mood lately so Jack was sure it was nothing polite. 

"We were really happy he did so well," Jack continued, choosing to ignore it. "We were concerned that he was too sensitive for business. He's our only child you know. He has to be ready to take over."

Never, in Jack's entire time in Gotham, had this vein of conversation gone astray. This was a sentiment that was extremely well received with every Gotham elite parent he had ever talked to. They would usually provide their own similar concerns about a child with grades too low or with too much cocaine in their nose. 

He had assumed Bruce would have similar sentiments regarding Dick Grayson's well known flight to Bludhaven to become a police officer of all things. Who would inherit Wayne Enterprises while Dick Grayson was playing cops and robbers? It hardly mattered that Bruce was only in his thirties and was looking down the barrel of a long life. This was Gotham; they could all be gassed by Joker venom tomorrow and be dead by next week.

But Bruce didn't go in that direction like he was supposed to.

"I thought he did great," he said instead, sounding vaguely defensive. "I think he'll go far."

"What was he doing over there?" Jack asked, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Tim was so vague about it."

"He was with me," Bruce said, also just as vaguely. "He was working special projects for me."

Jack was actually surprised and he didn't quite know what to say to that. He would have never thought that Tim was Bruce's personal intern. He had assumed that the boy had been interviewed by him, deemed worthy, and shuffled off to a VP or Director to handle. That was how Jack handled his own interns; he didn’t have the time to babysit high schoolers. 

"Excuse me," Bruce said, while Jack still fumbled for a response. He crossed the room, took Diana by the elbow, and they both went to another room together. Jack made eye contact with Janet and then turned, seeing Tim standing in the doorway. He had been watching them and he didn't look pleased. 

Jack didn't care.

00000

The rain pounded so persistently that night that when Tim visited him in his study he didn't even hear him come in. The boy was suddenly just there. Jack caught sight of him and jumped, spilling his whiskey all over his desk.

"Dammit," he snapped, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. "How many times have I told you not to do that?"

"What were you talking about with Bruce at the party?" Tim asked, refusing to acknowledge Jack's question.

"What do you care?" he asked. "You didn't even want him here."

"Because I don’t want you talk to him," Tim told him and Jack cocked his head to the side, curious. Tim was not usually protective over people since he was always so picky about whom he chose to care about. Sometimes Jack wondered if he and Janet even made the list. It really depended on if Tim was mad at them over something.

"Why not?" Jack asked. 

"He's not for you," Tim told him and, for a twelve year old boy, he sounded perfectly stern. Jack thought this was a curious turn of events. What was so special about Bruce Wayne that Tim would bother to lay down boundaries?

"He's not for you either," Jack replied. "He's not your family. Don't confuse yourself. He doesn't care; not really."

He knew Tim very well. He knew that the boy had latched onto Bruce Wayne. He did this every now and then. His next step would be to run away, claim he had a new family, and Jack would send the lawyer after him. 

It was just inconvenient that it was Bruce Wayne. Jack wasn't entirely sure if his lawyer could scare the man. This wasn't some teacher or housekeeper, overly concerned by Tim's independence; this was the most powerful man in Gotham. 

And that greatly concerned Jack. This would end up being a rather tricky play. 

00000

Jack and Janet left the next morning without saying goodbye to Tim. He had left at some point in the middle of the night and they strongly suspected he was next door. Hardly a new move for their son, but still jarring every time it happened.

While away, they had gotten news through the grapevine that Tim was showing up more and more often with Bruce. The socialites had cottoned on to the fact that Tim was essentially Bruce Wayne’s protege which had greatly raised their status in the eyes of the old monied families. Jack had conquered his fellow new monied colleagues years ago which made this step a very positive one. 

They were suddenly receiving emails with offers of membership to exclusive clubs they had never been to but apparently Tim had. They heard more than once about their lovely son who had stopped in with Bruce Wayne a few days ago.

Jack reached out to his contacts in Gotham City and heard back that Tim and Bruce had recently grown very close. Tim had also landed a permanent internship at Wayne Enterprises something that Jack was very conflicted about. While he was greatly pleased with the doors that Tim was opening for them, Jack also knew his son very well. He knew that Tim was getting overly attached to Bruce and it was only a matter of time before Bruce Wayne got bored and moved on. That was what people at his level did. 

It would also behoove Tim to remember that he was a Drake. His responsibility was not to his neighbor; it was to them.

00000

The next time Jack came face to face with Bruce Wayne it was a few days after he had come out of the coma. Someone, somewhere, had thought it should be Bruce who told Jack what had happened. The poison, the coma, _ Janet _. 

To his credit, Bruce had been kind, patient even. He hadn’t shown an ounce of frustration when Jack had been too confused to process what he was hearing, forcing Bruce to repeat parts of it over and over. It had taken hours. The nurses hadn’t even tried to dislodge the man, instead simply working around him as they needed to. 

Jack would later find out it was because Bruce owned this particular hospital. 

“My company,” Jack said finally. “Who’s running the company?”

And Bruce had been patient about that too. He had told him all about the emergency board meetings and the temporary appointment of one of Jack’s VPs until Jack was ready to return. His company was still alive and well. His wife, however, was long buried. 

It entirely escaped Jack’s notice, but not Bruce Wayne’s, that Jack had failed to inquire about his son.

00000

Tim lived in Bruce’s home for almost seven months before Jack finally put his foot down and demanded the boy come back to the house next door. Jack had spent four months in the hospital being treated, receiving surgery, and then intensive physical therapy. In the meantime, the house was being retrofitted to better suit someone with a wheelchair. 

And as he spent some time settling back, slowly resuming his role at Drake Industries, he had eventually come to the realization that Tim hadn’t actually moved back in like Jack had thought. He would show up randomly, attended just enough meals, making just enough appearances, that Jack was certain he was living there but was just a busy teenager. After some time and some not very subtle remarks from the house staff, it dawned on him, that Tim was, in fact, still living next door. 

Jack confronted him about it the next time Tim showed up in the study. 

“I just haven’t had the time to move all my stuff over is all,” Tim replied, sounding just as angry as Jack felt. “I live here.”

“No,” Jack said, snidely. “You don’t, but you should be. Bruce Wayne is not your family. I am. I don’t want you back over there without me knowing about it. I’ve already sent some of the staff over to collect your things since you seem to have such a hard time with it.”

“You can’t!” Tim exclaimed and there was a wild look in his eye that Jack would almost have called panic if he’d been able to process what he was seeing. Tim had wiped the look off his face and regained control too quickly for him to be certain. 

“I can and I have,” Jack replied. “You live here.”

Tim refused to speak to him for three days. 

00000

Jack should have been far more detailed about what boundaries he wanted Tim to follow. He had meant that Tim had to ask his permission to see Bruce, something he had planned to dangle in front of the other man and finally regain some of the control he’d lost. What Tim had heard was that he could go over to Wayne Manor whenever he wanted, he just had to tell his father he was doing it. Thus began six weeks of text messages and emails from Tim blatantly disregarding Jack’s authority. 

_ Went to Bruce’s; back whenever. _

_ With Bruce; back when I feel like it. _

_ At WE; back when I want to be. _

Jack would roll his eyes every time, saved each message, and bided his time. 

00000

Jack was falling in love with Dana Winters; of that he was certain. Once his he had regained the use of his legs, their relationship moved quickly. So quickly that when Tim had left on a school field trip for a week, he had come home to find a woman he didn’t know, living in a house he didn’t want to be in himself. The house was big enough that Tim could make himself scarce, locking himself in his bedroom for hours on end or disappearing into the city with his girlfriend, sometimes for days. 

He had never met this girl; had only seen the photos of her on Tim’s computer as the boy surfed social media on his laptop during breakfast. He wasn’t even sure if Tim had told him her name. If he had, Jack had forgotten it. He was more concerned with Dana. 

When Jack had decided to propose to Dana, he had also planned to pull out all the stops.

He had booked them a month long vacation in the mountains, renting out a beautiful mountain lodge, and planning all kinds of adventures for them that would culminate in a three-course dinner and carriage ride on Christmas Eve. 

In his mind it had been perfect planning. For years, he would swear up and down that he had remembered to tell Tim and had even told the boy to ask Bruce if he could stay with him for the month of December. He would hold to that story with every social worker, police officer, judge, and lawyer he spoke to. 

He had planned everything perfectly, Dana had said yes, and their giddy happiness had taken quite the hit when they had returned to find a message from the family lawyer. 

Bruce Wayne had filed a claim of neglect with Child Protective Services and was now suing for custody of Timothy Jackson Drake, age fourteen.

00000

Doors that had been open to Jack were swiftly slammed shut. 

Bruce Wayne’s mentorship of Tim had risen his stock to considerable heights and when the news broke that Bruce was suing for custody, Jack’s ability to maneuver through Gotham’s elite went out the door with his wayward teenager. He lost memberships to clubs, invitations to private parties and galas dried up, and even potential business prospects started to disappear. 

Tim was still officially living with him and Dana, though their relationship had hit an all time low. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been this angry with the boy. If Tim had bothered to just try, if he could have been a little more forgiving and a little less judgemental, then this family could have worked. 

Jack had searched Tim’s room when the boy had been gone for three days and refused to answer his cell phone. The gossip sites hadn’t put him with Bruce Wayne so, in Jack’s mind, there had been no reason for the boy not to pick up. Wandering into the boy’s room, Jack realized that he hadn’t been in this room for years. The last time he’d ventured beyond the doorway, Tim had been seven and angry with them for leaving on a business trip. 

The room had been messy then too. 

He had lectured Tim once, about being orderly and how it was the mark of the successful mind. Tim who had been holding a stack of school papers had listened intently and then dropped the papers on the floor, looked at his father in the eye, and simply said, “Okay.”

Tim had always been like that. Constantly daring Jack to blink. Jack refused to blink so he had gone into Tim’s room and looked around, hoping to find something he could use to force Bruce Wayne to drop the suit. 

What he had found, was Tim’s Robin armor. And really, didn’t everything make perfect sense after that?

00000

You could buy an illegal gun in Gotham City almost as easily as you could buy cocaine. Jack hadn’t wanted to go to a gun store; he didn’t want his purchase on any record, especially not with the amount of scrutiny he was under with the custody battle. But once he’d gotten it, he’d hailed a cab and was in front of Wayne Manor within forty-five minutes. The traffic had been light for that time of day. 

The front door had been unlocked and he’d simply walked in, wandering around the bottom floor until he’d heard voices coming from the study. He’d recognized Bruce’s instantly; he had not recognized the others. He didn’t knock; he simply opened the door. There were three of them standing around; Bruce Wayne and two men he didn’t know. The man with black hair saw him first, the blond man saw the gun first, but Bruce had spoken to him first.

“Jack? What are you doing?”

Afterward, Jack would think it was curious that Bruce’s first reaction to having a gun pointed in his face hadn’t been fear or even anger, but to throw out an arm as a clear signal for the other two men not to move. The dark haired man had halted abruptly, mid-step, and the blond haired man had balled his fists, looking concerned, but otherwise still. 

“Okay, everybody calm down,” Bruce said and even in the state Jack was in he could tell that Bruce had been talking to his friends, not to him. 

“I found this in Tim’s room,” Jack told him, tossing one of Tim’s Robin gadgets on the floor at Bruce’s feet. He had no idea what it did or even what to call it but he knew Bruce would recognize it. He was past caring about what these other men may or may not know about Bruce Wayne. “He never was very good at picking up after himself. It’s something he’s fought me on for years but maybe you can give it a go.”

“Maybe,” Bruce responded, a clear dig at the fact that he thought he was going to win the custody battle. Everyone thought it would end that way: the news, the socialites, even Dana. Jack gritted his teeth and eyed the other two men behind Bruce. There was a glint of red in the eyes of the dark haired man; something not quite human. 

“So which ones are these?” he asked snarkily, focusing back on Bruce. “Tweedle dee and tweedle dum?”

“You don’t want to know,” he said. 

“No, I probably don’t,” Jack agreed. “Where is Tim?”

“San Francisco,” Bruce replied, the blunt honesty surprising Jack. “He’s always with the Titans on the weekends.”

Jack cocked his head, casting his mind back, trying to remember the last time Tim had spent a full Saturday and Sunday at home. He couldn’t remember. 

“You didn’t know he wasn’t in the city, did you?” Bruce asked. Jack gripped the gun a little tighter, the other two men shifted uncomfortably. The only person who seemed unconcerned about the gun in his face, was Bruce. This annoyed Jack tremendously. 

“Nobody can keep track of Tim,” Jack defended himself. “I doubt even you can.”

The blond man nodded behind Bruce’s back making an absurd face but Bruce himself gave no indication if Jack was correct or not. In fact, the conversation came to an abrupt end when someone cracked Jack over the back of his head. As he lay on the floor fighting unconsciousness, he heard a voice he thought he recognized. If his head hadn’t been buzzing painfully, he likely would have remembered who it belonged to. It was someone from the gala circuit; he knew that much. 

“Longest bathroom break ever,” the blond man said. 

“Yeah, that’s the last time I let Bruce pick the taco place,” the familiar voice said. “Who’s this guy?”

“Tim’s dad,” Bruce told them. “Oliver, how hard did you hit him?”

“You know,” the man replied. “The usual. Tim has a dad?”

And that was when Jack Drake lost consciousness.

00000

He woke up in a cave. In the back of his mind he knew it was called the Batcave. At least, that was what the tabloids thought it was called. It was more of a joke than anything, but to his eyes it was actually quite impressive. It was several stories, filled to the brim with some of the most amazing technology Jack had ever set eyes on and even housed Bruce Wayne, who came into view quickly enough. 

“You’re lucky that it was Green Arrow who hit you over the head and not Superman or Flash,” Bruce told him. “He’s more skilled in rendering people unconscious without hurting them.”

“Is that who was in the study?” Jack asked. 

“Yes,” Bruce said. “It was.”

Jack felt his body go cold. Bruce had stopped Superman, _ the _ Superman, with just a gesture. He would have never suspected it from this eccentric billionaire. That, he thought, was probably the whole point. 

“What do you want?” Jack asked. “Why Tim?”

“He came to me,” Bruce replied. “He went all around the country rounding up side kicks, showing up where he shouldn’t be, doing things he shouldn’t be doing, and knowing things he shouldn’t know. I took him on because he asked me and I was impressed.”

“I never knew,” Jack said, the pounding in his head making his thoughts fuzzy. “I never knew he even left Gotham.”

“And that’s the whole problem, isn’t it?” Bruce asked. “You accused me of not being able to keep track of Tim. You’re wrong. I do keep track of him. I always know where he is and what he’s doing even if he doesn’t know it. It’s my responsibility to know.”

“What would he be like, if you hadn’t taken him on?” Jack asked. He needed to know. Would his family still be intact?

“He’d be Tim,” Bruce replied. “He’d be holed up somewhere hacking into some system or solving some mystery he heard about on the news or a podcast or some true crime tv show. He’d probably be exactly who he is now, just untrained and not to his full potential. He’s a remarkable boy, Jack. And he was wasted on you.”

“That may be so,” Jack said. “But that still doesn’t mean that he’s for you.”

“Well, that puts us all in a real quandary doesn’t it?” Bruce replied. “Because he’s not for you either.”

00000

Tim acted normally after the gun incident and Jack was convinced that Bruce never told the boy about what he had attempted. He had clearly told Dick Grayson though. 

He had run across Bruce’s oldest boy while at a business dinner with his top employees, trying to salvage what was left of a clearly dying company. Dick had been out with what looked to be his own friends and when they had spotted each other across the bar, Dick had given him the coldest look he’d ever seen. 

And he had put a gun in Batman’s face in a room full of Justice League members. 

00000

When he lay on his living room floor, bleeding out, holding his guts in his hands, he thought about all of his regrets. 

He wished he had stayed at the house a little more, spent more time with Tim, maybe even gone to one of those parent teacher conferences the schools had always been going on about. He wished he hadn’t given his son to Bruce Wayne because it made him more powerful, something he’d always wanted for himself and for his name. 

He hadn’t been there when Tim was born; he’d been two months early and he had spent six weeks in an incubator in the Martha Wayne Memorial NICU. Tim had nearly died a few times according to his medical records. That tiny, underweight, dying baby had clawed his way back to life while Jack had been Asia, bending those markets to his will, and Janet had been in a psych ward recovering from a break with reality. 

Jack had been in South America when Tim had been home at six years old, putting together the pieces of the identities of Batman and Robin. Janet had been in Gotham, having an affair that Jack had heard about from his own employee. He could vaguely recall Tim trying to tell him something about Batman when he’d gotten home from extracting his wife from her lover’s penthouse. Jack had snapped at him to go away. 

Jack had been in Europe, working on EU regulations, when Tim had been enrolled at Gotham Academy at nine-years-old and had promptly disappeared on the nanny. Bruce Wayne would later tell him that this was the first time Tim had solved a cold case, going to the scene of the crime and finding that the witness couldn’t have possibly seen the crime as they’d said they had. That person had been convicted of murder based on Tim’s anonymous tip which had been written on a piece of paper with the spare green crayon he’d found in the bottom of his Robin themed backpack. 

Jack had been in the Caribbean with Janet when Tim, at twelve years old, had taken his investigation of Batman and Robin to Batman himself. Bruce had told him that he had been incredibly confused by what the boy was trying to babble out to him such was Bruce’s concussion and Tim’s excitement. He would teach Tim how to fight and how to organize his thoughts so people could follow along, but he hadn’t taught him much else. Tim was a natural detective. 

Jack had been in a coma and Janet long dead when Tim had joined some superhero teams, gaining a reputation for efficiency and brilliant maneuvers. Bruce had told Jack about the couple of times a Justice League member would call directly, bypassing Batman entirely in favor of the equally brilliant and far more amiable Robin. They had stopped when Batman had thrown a fit (not Bruce’s exact words) at a Justice League meeting, claiming no one had the right to bypass him in favor of a thirteen year old boy. He always wanted to approve Tim’s solo mission something that had apparently gotten more difficult with time. 

Jack had been on vacation with Dana, spiraling down into his own despair about the loss of his company, when Tim had been in the Batcave dying of the Clench. He had been in pain, bleeding, losing his grip on reality, and being looked after by Bruce Wayne’s butler, not his own family. 

Bruce had told Jack a lot of things when he’d first woken up in the Batcave after being hit in the head by Green Arrow. And really, it was remarkable the amount of things Jack hadn’t known about his own child. 

At least Tim had Bruce. Batman. Whatever he was called. 

Jack guessed everyone had been right. 

Bruce really would win that custody battle. 


End file.
